Touchin' On My
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: How long does someone have to search in another's ass for their prostate, for God's sake. It shouldn't be this hard, or take this long. ("So, what, that's it? You're giving up?" "We've been at this for nearly two hours, Stiles.")


_**This was written as a gift fic for a prompt that a friend of mine on Ao3 gave me. It can be found on there as well. My Ao3 details can be found on my profile (bio).**_

* * *

"Any day now, Derek. _Any day_. I have _all the time in the world_," Stiles yawns. He's got his knees pressed together, holding his legs up for Derek who, right now, has the most concentrated expression Stiles has _ever _seen on his face. Oh yeah, and three fingers up his ass.

They've been at this for two hours, after about a half an hour/forty five minutes of foreplay, which was okay at the beginning (Stiles knows that sometimes it takes a little bit of time and patience for the good stuff to happen), but now it's starting to get _slightly_ annoying. How long does someone have to search in another's ass for their _prostate_,for God's sake. It shouldn't be this hard, or take this long.

Derek ignores Stiles' _obvious_ enthusiasm of the situation to ask "Is this it?" and to get another bored, half-whined reply of "No, no it's not. It's _never _going to be it."

This goes on for another ten more minutes at least before Derek sighs, pulling his fingers out. Stiles' eyes squint, mouth turning down and forming a small scowl.

"So, what, that's it? You're giving _up_?"

"We've been at this for nearly _two hours_, Stiles."_  
_

Derek sounds agitated, which is funny, their feelings must be in sync. Because he feels the _exact _same. Which he shouldn't be. He _should be_ getting his prostate fucking _treasured _right now and be feeling over-the-moon in bliss, but instead all he's got is a sore ass and a half-mast dick.

"What if I turn around? D'you think you'll be able to find it easier _then_?" He doesn't mean to hiss out the words but_ really_, there's only so much a horny 19 year old can take.

"Maybe."

Derek shrugs, but Stiles can tell he's up for the idea. The dilated pupils tell all. _All_.

"Okay, alright, we'll try it." He rolls his body over, stomach pillowed by the mattress, legs spread as he waits. For nothing. "Derek?"

"Y-Yeah, yep, got it." Derek's voice sounds, what, nervous? Why? It's not like he's never seen Stiles' _ass _before.

"Uh, you okay back there big guy?" he chuckles. Derek shouldn't be acting nervous _now_. He's spent too much time with his fingers up Stiles' ass to be nervous. This shouldn't be any different.

Then again, Derek's fingers only go in his ass for fingering. Preperation. Not anything else. And wait, hadn't he mentioned to Derek a few weeks ago that his prostate was super duper sensitive? Like, not-at-all-meant-to-be-this-sensitive-but-is-anyway-sensitive?

"Fine." Derek's voice wavers, but his oh-so-powerful ego streak to prove he's perfectly okay wins out, because he says it again. "I'm _fine_."

Stiles breathes in calmly, fights the smile twitching at the sides of his face, then remembers Derek can't see him and grins wide. "You're fine. Okay. That's good. _Great_. Now stick your fingers back in my ass and get to work."

He hears Derek's breath expel out loudly from behind him, before there's a hand coming to rest over the curve of his left ass cheek. The hand squeezes, gentle, before a finger presses against his hole, wriggling in slowly. Derek's warm breath ghosting over the little hairs on his ass causes him to shiver. He closes his eyes and sucks in a lungful of air through the gaps in his clenched teeth, imagines Derek's face, determined hazel eyes trained on his own finger in Stiles' ass, biting his lip at the sight.

"C'mon. Another. Actually, _two_ more. Hurry up," he whines, tilting his hips up against the mattress beneath him. No sooner as he's said it, it's happening, two more fingers sliding in easily after the first one. They stroke rhythmically, all three of them scissoring apart slightly and twisting inside him.

"Fuck, looks so much better like this," he hears Derek murmur.

"Y-Yeah?" He's trying not to moan or whimper or keen or _anything_, really.

But then it happens.

"_O-O-Ohhh_."

He's gasping, stuttering and shaking, when one of Derek's fingers press down just _there_. It's like every single nerve-ending in his body is _singing _just from that one touch.

"That's it, isn't it?" Derek says. Well, kind of chokes out really, like he's amazed that he's finally found it and the fact that he has is so overwhelming.

"Y-Yep, you got it," he breathes, trying to catch his breath.

That plan ultimately fails when all three of Derek's fingers press _there _again, circling around and around in tiny spirals. Over that fucking _spot_.

"Fu-fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he whimpers. "Y-Y-You're, _fuck_, a-abusing the t-t-thing."

Derek snorts, the sound far away compared to the monotonous ringing in his ears as the fingers keep up wth the circle-y thing they're doing. He's aware he's pratically humping the mattress, legs getting tangled in the sheets with the frantic buck and swivel of his hips.

"You weren't kidding," Derek groans, laving a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his inner-thigh. "_Very_ sensitive."

The kiss. Seriously. That's all. All it takes.

It feels like his whole body is unravelling, back bowing and hips rutting desperately against the mattress, all the while with Derek's fingers kneading down on that tiny gland, working the orgasm out of him until he's keening in sharp, high little bursts.

Derek's lips kissing tenderly across his shoulder blade is what snaps him out of the close-to-subspace trance he's in.

"You alright?" Derek murmurs, lightly nipping the skin below his earlobe.

"Mmm, gimme me a minute," he whispers tiredly.

Sleep wins over in the end, Derek's body covering him from head to toe, werewolf body temperature keeping him comfortably warm as Derek's breath hums a soothing rhythm in his ear.


End file.
